The Death Line
by SilverstarsEbonyskies
Summary: Fang and Hiccup are warriors-in-training in rival clans. Fang is the perfect killing machine; Hiccup is a disappointment. But after Fang spares Hiccup's life in the Death Line, they forge an unlikely friendship. Hiccup will forever call him Toothless. AU
1. Chapter 1: Discontent

Summary: Fang and Hiccup are warriors-in-training in rival clans. Fang is shaping up to be the perfect killing machine; Hiccup is just a disappointment. But after Fang spares Hiccup's life in the Death Line, they forge an unbreakable friendship. Hiccup will forever call him "Toothless." But how will they retain their friendship with their clans warring against each other?

To clarify, this is an alternate universe fanfiction which takes place on the island shown in the movie with a few alterations. Firstly, the island is bigger, to accommodate two clans of people, although they compete for resources. Secondly, in the middle of the island, splitting it into almost equal parts, is a large, craggy valley. Oftentimes, this is were the battles between the clans occur.

The Death Line by SilverstarsEbonyskies

Ch.1: Discontent

Fang swung his sword in complicated arcs, his whole form an indistinguishable blur. Dart here, swing, thrust, step back, block. He slashed to the side and blocked another blow with his shield. He sparred with his invisible partner like it was a beast from hell. In a sense, it was. His thoughts attacked him more viciously than any real foe ever could. He snarled as his blows became stronger and more erratic.

He had thrown a knife at Falcon just a couple hours ago. It hit true, of course. That bastard had the gall to insult his father; he deserved it. It was his fault, not Fang's. He should be grateful he only aimed for the shoulder. And yet...something else Falcon had said clung persistently to the forefront of his thoughts.

Demon child. He had called him a demon's child.

Fang charged forward, cutting the air so fast that he almost lost control of his sword. He swore and corrected himself, moving back to more orderly strikes. Mistakes like that could cost him his life on the battlefield. He was going to be a warrior. The best the clan had ever seen. He would never allow himself to do otherwise.

But it might be true. He could certainly fit the part of a demon. His hair was dark black, almost competing with the pitch of the night. No one else in the village had dark hair, all sporting various shades of red and the occasional blond. His eyes too were highly unusual, a piercing yellow-green. A predator's eyes.

And a predator he clearly was. No one could deny that. He was blessed with unnatural grace and ferocity. His teeth, even, were formed into slight points. People became uneasy when he smiled. He looked nothing like his father and acted nothing like him either. People often whispered, in those temporary stretches of time when the battles had ceased and when people were restless, that he was a changeling.

But no, no. He would prove to them that he belonged. He would show them all. He was his father's son; he had a rightful place in his clan. He would earn the right to be a warrior, and would take the heads of as many enemies as necessary to gain their respect, their approval.

Fang charged again and sliced down, slicing a thick branch off of a nearby tree. The hunk of wood thudded to the leaf strewn ground and Fang inwardly reveled in his victory, satisfied. He would win. He always won. He could outsmart, outpace, and outfight any of the Berk Clan. He could kill anyone set against him. They wouldn't be able to stop him.

He wouldn't let anyone stop him.

* * *

Hiccup collapsed into a heap, gasping. His arm and legs shook with exhaustion. He struggled to stand up before-

"Hiccup!" Gobber growled, "You've got to do better than this, boy!"

Hiccup hurriedly threw his shield up just in time to block the blow from the ax, but his concentration was shot and his admittedly scrawny body wasn't up to this sort of task. He slammed backwards into the dust, and the shield was kicked out of his hand. Hiccup scrabbled backwards, just missing another swing of the ax by mere inches. Snotlout sneered and rose the ax up for another blow.

"Snotlout, that's enough," Gobber sighed, hand over his face, "I've seen enough."

Snotlout sported a look of bitter disappointment before shrugging and turning back to Hiccup, who was very obviously relieved beyond measure. "What are you even doing here?" He jeered, "I didn't know they let such losers into the arena. Next time, try to last more than a minute."

Hiccup's cheeks burned red with shame. He could feel his peers' stares sear into his neck. And he knew without looking what their faces all looked like. He couldn't turn around for fear that he'd see Astrid's unimpressed frown. He had wanted so badly to prove he could do this, if only to make her like him, just for a moment. Was just one moment of being capable too much to ask for?

He could see Gobber to the side, hand still over his face, ashamed and disappointed in him, he was sure. Hiccup bit his lip to keep himself under control while he shakily stood up, and head hung low, he exited the arena. Gobbler intercepted him at the gate.

"Hiccup, what were you doing? You can't just drop your weapon like that," He lectured exasperatedly, "And you've got to learn how to use your shield properly! How can I make you get this?"

There was a pause before Hiccup answered, "You...you can't." Hiccup's shoulders sunk in defeat.

"But you _have_ to. What are you gonna do if there's a raid? If the Draconis Clan gets past the Death Line? How are you gonna defend yourself? Or other people? What if Adder the Deadly has her mace ready to crack your skull open? Tell me, what are you doing to do, Hiccup?"

Hiccup had no reply to give.

"Do you know the type of recruits they've got over there? You have to've heard the rumors. They've already got one who's entered into battle. He's killed two of our own. Strikes before you can even see him, and nothing can ever hit him. Leaves battle blood-soaked, but it's never any of his own. His name's Fang, which you should know if you ever leave your house."

"The Night Fury." Hiccup whispered.

"Aye, that's what some have taken to calling him now. Only fights during the night, and slays with the fury of a pack of wolves. I won't deny it suits him," Gobber sighed and his voice softened, "Look, I'm a friend of your father's, and I can tell he's worried about this whole business of your warrior training. To tell the truth, so am I. I can't do anything else to help you. You just aren't enough of a Viking. You need to grow into your own. You need to change...._this_." Gobber waved his hand in Hiccup's direction.

"You just gestured to all of me." Hiccup pointed out, a little put out.

"Hm, yeah, that's about right. All of of that." Gobber nodded, completely unaware of how absurd Hiccup thought that was, "I know you can be a proper Viking. You just need 'ta work on it."

"...work on it," Hiccup muttered, "Right."

"Good," Gobber slapped him on the back, "Glad that's all worked out. Go and rest up for training tomorrow. We've gotta get started working the Hiccup out of you."

* * *

Hiccup trudged up to his house, gnawing on a piece of sheep meat he scavenged from the mess hall. He didn't feel like staying there to hear the people snicker over him. He was getting so tired of this. This same failure, the same people making fun, and the same inability of his to just...just fit in. Why couldn't he wield something like a mace or an ax or a sword? He was stuck with a stupid little knife. Why couldn't he be vicious and fight? What was so wrong with him that he failed doing what all the others found so easy? So second-nature?

He tried to open the door as quiet as possible so he could sneakily slip into his room without his father noticing. No such luck. His father was right by the door, about to head out just as Hiccup was coming in. Hiccup stood there awkwardly.

"Hiccup, you're early!" his father exclaimed.

"Uh, I-I can explain," Hiccup stammered, "Y'see, I-"

"Did you actually beat someone? Did Gobber send you back because you're actually, finally starting to get somewhere?"

Hiccup opened his mouth. His dad looked so excited, so unburdened by the thought that his son might actually start to be good at something that mattered, "U-uh, well he's optimistic."

"Great!" His father boomed, "I have to start a town meeting about the plans for the raid tomorrow night. When I get back you can tell me all about your battle. We'll finally have something to talk about!"

His father brushed past him, leaving Hiccup open-mouthed. "Uuuugh, what am I going to say? 'Yeah, I put up absolutely no fight against Snotlout, isn't that so Viking-like?' I am so screwed. There's no way I can make it sound any less than me making an idiot of myself like I usually do."

He shook his head in defeat and entered his house, making a beeline for his room and falling face first into his bed. Everything seemed so hopeless. He sighed and rolled over onto his side. His eyes fell onto his latest idea he had been tinkering on. It shot weighted nets, so people wouldn't have to throw them. It was portable too. Although a bit heavy and bulky, you could steady it on your shoulder. To be honest, it hadn't worked correctly any of the times he had tried it. Once, he'd even managed to get himself entangled in the net, but all it needed was a few minor adjustments really. He was sure he could get it to work.

In fact, he just might even be able to perfect it by tomorrow night.


	2. Chapter 2: The Scale

The general response towards this story has been much more positive than I expected, and for that, thank you. Your reviews are great encouragement for me. Criticism is welcomed as well. I could use any chance to improve my writing. ^_^

I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

The Death Line by SilverstarsEbonyskies

Ch. 2: The Scale

He started tinkering with his unnamed gadget immediately, his desperation to be useful honing his inventor's urge. With this, he could earn his place, be accepted. No longer would he be Hiccup the Useless, and no longer would he be the subject of their scorn. And maybe, just maybe, he could earn Astrid's admiration.

His hopes and dreams fueling his fingers, he made quick work of his fine tuning, finishing only an hour after the sun had sunk beneath the waves and several minutes before his father returned. When his dad did come back, Hiccup headed off his questions about the training with questions of his own about the preparations for the raid. He was flooded with so many of them that the topic of Hiccup's training completely slipped out of his head.

"It's great to see you're finally taking an interest in what we do around here!" His father boomed heartily, "We might be able to make a Viking out of you yet!" His tone became serious, "But make sure you're in the house when the raid starts. I want you out of the fighting for now. It's good you're getting better, your mother would be proud, but you're not ready for this yet. Understand?"

"Haha, of course!," He answered readily despite the guilt, "I need to build up some muscle first before I go beheading my enemies!" Hiccup gave a show of flexing his arms before attempting to look fierce.

His father chuckled and ruffled his hair. "Good to hear, son. Now go get some sleep. I want you in top form for Gobber tomorrow."

Hiccup gratefully took that opportunity to retreat back to the relative safety of his room. He collapsed on his bed again, but this time with a little half-smile on his face. Tomorrow night. Tomorrow night he would get out there and make his mark. Visions of his soon-to-be glory danced around in his mind, teasing him. This time he would prove that his inventions were valuable, that he was valuable. He _could_ be a part of them, he really could, and without changing himself.

He drifted off to a happy sleep, which unfortunately would not last long.

* * *

At sundown, Fang had begun to head back for the village. His stomach had growled bitterly for food, and Fang could only resist for so long. He ignored the village's communal bonfire outside, opting instead to head straight for home. He had strange eating habits, and he had learned long ago to keep them to himself.

His father raised an eyebrow at him when he trudged through the door, and Fang only now registered his completely disheveled state. He had been out there for hours, practicing and practicing until he got every step and every swing down to absolute perfection. Concern for his appearance had been the last thing he was thinking of.

"Rough self-training?" He asked pointedly.

Fang nodded sharply.

"I heard about what you did to Falcon."

Fang mentally scoffed. Of course he did. Everyone knew everything in this place. Rumors traveled faster than the wind. And there was no doubt that Falcon spread the news as quickly as humanely possible. Anything to give Fang a hard time.

"And?" Fang asked passively.

His father sighed heavily and pulled on his beard, "Look, I appreciate that you want to defend my honor, but I can defend myself, Fang. I would rather you not get into trouble."

"But-"

"No. You will listen to me." His father cut in, "You need to step back and learn to let things go. And also, I sometimes think you might be trying a little too hard with this self-training you're doing. You're going to wear yourself down. I can already see it."

When Fang refused to respond, he sighed again, "Fine, I know your stubbornness. Just eat your meal and make sure to stay home and take it easy before tonight."

Fang placated him with another nod and went to the back of the house where he had placed his catch of fish from earlier that day. He plucked the cover off of the bucket and picked a rather large fish with shiny silver scales from inside. He replaced the cover before taking refuge in his bedroom. He sat on the edge of his bed and held up the fish so he could sample its smell. Freshly caught fish had one of the nicest smells, he thought. Fresh, clean, and incomparable.

And without any further ado, he sank his teeth right into it, ripping a fleshy bit out and chewing. It was raw, which was one of his peculiar culinary tastes. Another was that he normally would eat the whole thing, bones and all, easily crunching them to dust with his abnormal teeth. It was unnerving to watch, he had gathered, so he spared the villagers the sight.

After he finished his meal, he snuck out of his room, making not a singular noise. He crept carefully towards the front door like a cat and was out of the house with nary a sound. He had successfully kept his father unaware of his departure. It wasn't like he was going to go off and train again. He would in fact heed his father's suggestion to rest, but Fang just didn't like being penned up inside. It was too confining. He needed the outdoors, the fresh air, and the sky above him.

As he walked toward the forest, he paused and spared a glance behind him, taking in the sight of the village. For the smallest of moments, he wanted to turn back and...and join them, perhaps. He could see a good number of them still clustered around the fire, all done eating but still staying just for the company of each other. The orange glow of the fire highlighted their happy faces. But the desire quickly passed, and he smiled ruefully. He wouldn't, couldn't, do that. What was the point? No one wanted him there anyway.

So with slightly heavier footsteps, he continued his trek into the woods. The sights and sounds of the forest calmed him as he drew closer to one of his favorite secluded spots, one of the furthest away from the town: a small, out of the way clearing with a stream wending its way through it. No one ever came there because of its proximity to the Death Line. It was a mere thirty feet from the cusp of the valley, where the land turned craggy and sloped almost directly downwards, ending abruptly into a stretch of boulder-dotted landscape that continued until the other side. The dirt down there was red and dark and pungent.

Fang leaned against the tree closest to the little stream. He listened to its mutterings and stared into its waters. He wasn't in need of any more fish, even if he was he wasn't likely to find any good ones here, but it had become a habit for him to look regardless. It had somewhat of a meditative effect, searching for the quick darting movements and the glint of scales-

There.

His hand automatically slashed into the water, grasping the glint that caught his eye and wrenching it forth into the open air. To his surprise, what he held was not a fish. Rather, it was a scale. An impossibly oversized scale, sparkling a fetching blue in the light of the full moon. There couldn't exist a creature large enough to shed a scale such as the one he retrieved, and yet there it was. What manner of beast wore it? How did it reside on the island without notice? And for how long had it done so? These questions rose immediately into his mind. His clan could be in danger; no one would be prepared for a monster of that size. For all he knew, there could be several of them.

He had to warn them.

Wasting no time, he hurriedly slipped the scale into a pouch by his side and rushed back to his village. He would talk directly to the Chief Commander, Adder. He had no doubt that she would deal with the matter efficiently, and with the greatest possible speed.

He stopped running at the village border to avoid attracting unwanted attention, but his effort was in vain. His father was there waiting for him. His gaze was stony, his arms crossed. Fang frowned at this complication, but he made no complaint as he obeyed his father's beckoning. He couldn't deny that he had ignored his father's wishes by leaving.

"I will talk to you about this later," His father said, "For now, get ready. We will start the battle soon. The Berk Clan will pay dearly tonight for the lives they took from us a fortnight ago."

Fang bristled, but he had no choice. The scale would have to wait. Tomorrow, he promised himself, he would make sure Adder was informed. For tonight, though, he would fight for his clan.

The glory of the battlefield awaited.


	3. Chapter 3: Caught

Once again, all the positive feedback astounds me. XD A million thanks to all who reviewed, whether with praise or criticism, and to those who alerted or faved. ^_^

Anyways, I have picked up a beta, meggie6, so that all those little errors won't keep slipping by me. XD;;;

So without further ado, please enjoy the third chapter. ^_^

The Death Line by SilverstarsEbonyskies

Ch. 3: Caught

Geared for battle, Fang followed silently after his stomping comrades in arms. He scowled at the ruckus they made. They lumbered along, crushing twigs and leaves under their feet without a care. Vikings were never a restrained people, so stealth was generally beyond them. However, Fang was convinced that the reason their raids never fully succeeded was that they always lost the element of surprise through their sheer inability to stay quiet. Thinking about that made Fang feel like tonight was an exercise in futility. Well, for his village as a whole at least. Fang's continued victories in battle were impressive for one so young, he knew. Soon, he hoped, he would attain his goal. They couldn't ignore his talents forever.

It wasn't long before the troop reached the edge of the cliff-like boundary to the Death Line. Fang watched everyone else clamber artlessly down the rocky incline before his eyes settled upon their leader up in front, Adder. She was the only one who struck him as truly competent. Every Viking in his village was strong, no doubt, but she had not only the strength of limb, but the strength of mind as well. It was no surprise that she had taken her place as Chief Commander. For that he admired her.

He shook himself out of the fog of his thoughts and started his descent, very quickly catching up to his place. His eyes forward, hand on his scabbard, and his mind alert, he marched towards the other side of the Death Line, skirting around the large boulders planted in his way. His yellow-green eyes glinted in anticipation, the battle fever awakening inside him. Vivid memories of war cries, the thick smell of blood, and death moans took over his senses until he forcefully shook them away. No not yet, not yet. He willed himself to stay focused. The raid had yet to begin.

* * *

Yelling roused Hiccup from his deep slumber. With a gasp, he shot up and glanced around wildly, searching for the source of the disturbance. More yells and the grinding of metal against metal assaulted his ears. It was coming from outside.

What the hell was going on?

He shoved his feet haphazardly into his Viking boots and shot down the stairs, wrenching open the door and gaping at what he saw. His town was in shambles. Things knocked over, livestock gripped in the throes of panic, and injured people from Berk desperately patching themselves up to rejoin the fray.

He could see the erratic movement by the edge of the forest and hear the sounds of battle. A horrible, cold feeling seized his stomach. The Draconis Clan. How had they gotten this far? He felt dizzy.

Gobber ran up to him, having noticed Hiccup during his frantic hobbling towards the chaos. "Hiccup! Stay in the house! We've got 'em pushed back but they could break through at any time!" He charged away with his uneven gait, roaring and waving his prosthetic arm, which was equipped with his hammer attachment.

Hiccup cast one last, long look at the unexpected scene before him and then darted back up to his room. He tore through his room like a hurricane, displacing everything in his hurry to find his invention. Where did he put that stupid thing? It couldn't have just disappeared...Ah, there. Under the bed. He hauled it out and gazed at it.

This was it, his chance. His heart raced with nervousness. It was too soon. He had been prepared for tomorrow night, when his clan would have had the upper-hand. Unfortunately life had not worked according to his plan. He'd just have to adjust. He gulped.

He took a deep breath in to settle his nerves and grasped one end of his contraption so he could lug it behind him. He struggled with it going down the stairs; it made horribly loud thumps against each and every individual step. He, however, went as quickly as could, and he found himself at the open front door once again.

He couldn't see any of the warriors anymore, which meant his clan had managed to push them back even further, actually into the forest. He steeled himself, heaved the long, narrow contraption onto his shoulder, and ran awkwardly off after them.

After a couple minutes, he slowed down to a fast walk, cursing his lack of stamina. He hadn't expected them to have gone quite so far. The warriors from his clan must have been fighting with everything they had. He continued onward with determination, giving the injured a wide berth to avoid detection and steadily ignoring the dead, so as not to lose heart before he even got there. He would not question himself now. Battle was a bloody business. He'd just have to get used to it.

He knew he had almost reached them when the discordant sounds once again found his ears. He held his breath and crept forward out of the trees. To his amazement, everyone was down below in the Death Line. For a moment, pride for his clan made his chest swell. Any other clan, he was sure, would have lost by now, obliterated by the ambush. He could just barely spot his father in the middle of the battlefield, setting an example by beating his enemies into a pulp. No one could get close to him, even though he fought with his bare hands, his weapon having been knocked to the ground a while ago.

Hiccup shook himself out of gawking and starting stumbling his way down, his shoulder aching with the effort of supporting his invention, which he had come to realize was a little too heavy for him to just tote around the warzone. He halted about halfway down, deciding that it would be better to shoot from a vantage point. Also, he reasoned, no one could get him from all the way down there.

So he braced himself against the slope and turned his sights down among the fighting, scanning for a good target. Someone worth taking down, someone infamous. It was hard to recognize who was friend and who was foe. It would have been impossible, were it not for the fullness of the moon that night. Hiccup was patient though, carefully sweeping the area with his eyes. He couldn't afford to be hasty; he only had one shot. If he missed, well that was it. It would be over. There would be nothing else he could do.

The pressure made his hands shake, so he tightened his grip. A few more agonizing minutes crawled by with Hiccup watching in this way. His shoulder ached so badly, but he didn't dare let his weapon drop. It would be just his luck if in that unprepared instant, the perfect opportunity arose.

"Where are they?" He muttered in frustration, "Someone, come on! Gydrel the Fierce, Jackal the Swift, any-"

A shadow moved, darker than the night and twice as silent, and Hiccup knew without a doubt who it was. He strained his eyes to keep up with the slinking figure, almost not breathing. A tingling feeling spread from his stomach outward. This was it; this was it; this was it.

"Oh please," He whispered, "Let this hit."

He pulled the lever.

The net shot out with a whoosh, unfolding and falling in an arc. The force of its exit pushed him roughly against the rocky face, but heedless, Hiccup, his mind numb, followed its path with his anxious eyes. Did he correct enough for the wind? For the figure's movement? For, for...gods, he couldn't even think. Time couldn't move fast enough.

It landed. Hiccup stared and felt the sweat run down his face. Unthinkingly, he wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

"I...I-I...I did it!" Hiccup gasped, "I got him! I hit the Night Fury!"

He almost didn't know what to do with himself. He dropped his wooden contraption and clasped his hands to his head. A dazed grin broke across his face.

"Now what?" He muttered, "I have to go down there, go...go retrieve him."

With shaky legs, he continued his trek down the rest of the way into the Death Line to claim his prize.

* * *

Fang struggled helplessly against the thick roping of the net, working himself into a frenzy. His sword rested a mere inch or two away, taunting him. His arm was caught at such a strange angle that he couldn't reach no matter how desperately he tried. He strained towards it anyways, craning his fingers out as far as he could manage to no avail. Opening his mouth was futile as well, since his jaw was bound as securely as the rest of him. He would've gnawed his way out.

His efforts had done nothing but push the side of his face into the bloodied ground. He exhaled harshly through his nose in rage. How could he have been caught so unawares? Now he was powerless. It was humiliating. And, he realized, would likely mean his death. He would join the countless others who had perished here. It wasn't quite the place he had been hoping to earn.

Throat tight, he closed his eyes and waited for the enemy to find him.


	4. Chapter 4: Failure

As always, all this positive response never ceases to amaze me. =D I appreciate each and every one of your reviews, so thank you for taking the time to write them. ^_^ Anyways, here's chapter four, just in time to celebrate reaching 1,500 hits. \o/

Enjoy. =)

The Death Line by SilverstarsEbonyskies

Ch. 4: Failure

Hiccup grimaced as the ground gave a little under his boot. He could smell the dark musk of old blood, and the metallic tang of the new. He could see the white gleam of bone under the moonlight, fragments of people long lost and long forgotten, apparently not having been cared for enough to have someone come back for their corpse. He had never been down here before, and he didn't relish the prospect of ever coming down here again.

He endured the stench and soldiered on, making sure he was low to the ground. The boulders would hide him from sight, he knew, especially considering the one-minded intensity the Vikings fought with. They clashed and roared and swung, absolutely oblivious to anything else.

Hiccup's eyes darted here and there, straining for a sign of the dark figure and the net that caught him. He was pretty sure he was getting close, at least. The figure had been on the outskirts of the battle, keeping to the shadows, probably watching and waiting for a good target. It was, Hiccup reasoned, why no one ever saw him coming in time. He would skulk around unseen until he struck, gone before the allies of the newly fallen Viking could even register surprise.

The thought made Hiccup shiver. What was he doing, trying to defeat someone like him? He sounded more like a monster than a man. But...but he had caught him. He'd seen it. Plus, what would be more foolish than abandoning something he'd already almost succeeded at? All he had to do was find him and...and kill him. Slit his throat or pierce his heart with his knife. Hiccup's heart raced. It was just...just that simple-

There. Hiccup's eyes lay riveted on one spot. There he was: the Night Fury. The body was wrapped so tightly in the ropes of the net that Hiccup wouldn't doubt if something had been dislocated or broken. There was a rope under his jaw that pulled up, forcing his head back. It probably made it hard for him to breathe. It was lucky, Hiccup supposed. He wouldn't be able to call for help that way.

Hiccup pulled his knife and inched closer, searching for any signs of movement. The rise and fall of the Night Fury's chest proved him still alive, but there was no struggling, no fighting to get free. Maybe he was unconscious? The thought seemed unlikely to Hiccup. Wouldn't the Night Fury be stronger than that? He scanned his foe, only a foot or two away now.

The man had dark hair, dark clothes, and tan skin. He wasn't built as broad as most Vikings were, but he was obviously muscular. With no small amount of horror, Hiccup noticed the blood. It was speckled everywhere on him: his hands, his face, his neck. He had no doubt that his clothes were spattered with it too, though he couldn't tell with their dark color. The Night Fury had already taken many lives that night. Berkian lives. The lives of his people. He would definitely continue taking those lives, if he was not stopped.

Hiccup's face hardened, and with flinty determination, he raised his knife, the hilt towards the sky and the tip waiting to plunge into the monster's beating heart.

* * *

Fang hadn't wanted to acknowledge his helplessness. Even as he heard his captor's soft footsteps, he had kept his eyes shut, not wanting to face the fact that this was it. He just didn't want to. But as his captor knelt to the ground, surely to deliver the death blow, he could no longer help himself. He had to know. What kind of man would kill him? What kind of man had spotted him and could see what no one else had?

In that second, his eyes opened. A thin, scrawny scrap of a boy with russet hair knelt beside him, hands gripping much too tightly to the dagger they held. If Fang could have laughed, he would have. Such a short, bitter laugh he would have made. This was what brought him down? A mere child? He watched impassively as the boy's eyes widened. His abrupt "awakening" must have startled him. Fang held his gaze dispassionately.

Fang knew he could have snapped that neck with his bare hands. There were a million ways he could have killed that boy, every one of them so easy, if only he could move. Unfortunately, he couldn't. He was at the mercy of the boy who had his dagger raised.

So with resignation, Fang closed his eyes and accepted his fate.

When the expected blow didn't come, Fang inwardly cursed. The boy in his lack of confidence would drag this out wouldn't he? Drag out the anticipation, the dread, every second wondering whether that would be his last. He wanted to shout at the boy to just _do it already_-

Fang went frigid when the cold, cold metal touched the skin of his neck, and his eyes shot open when he heard the dagger slice through the fibers of the rope. He was...being let go? This made no sense. The boy was going to kill him, he saw it in his eyes. What happened? Why?

The sudden sensation of freedom jolted him out of his stupor, and he immediately reached for his sword, ignoring the slight twang of his abused muscles. Grabbing the front of the boy's shirt with only his left hand, he flung him to the ground. The boy grunted and tried to scramble back up. Fang was there in an instant to knock him back down, sword pointed down at him to deter future attempts.

Anger overwhelmed him then. How dare this boy humble him like this and make him fear for his life? He scowled, teeth bared and eyes blazing, and reveled in the terror it caused. The impudent brat should be scared. Fang was going to kill him for his brazenness.

"I know you were scared," the boy said, trembling, "It's okay. You don't have to be angry about it."

_What?_

Fang growled, taking another step forward, "I was not _scared_-" The tip of Fang's sword scraped against the boy's neck.

"I was scared too," He continued, heedless of Fang's rebuttal, "I'm...still scared. Heh, not much of a Viking am I?" He laughed weakly, "Can't do much of anything right. My dad will be disappointed when I turn up dead. Another failure to add to the list. Can't even just stay in my house."

Just then Fang heard it. That short, bitter laugh. The one he would have made just moments ago, when he thought was going to die, when he thought he was going to fail. The same gods damned laugh. In that instant, when he looked at the boy sprawled on the ground, he saw himself: humbled, rejected, resigned, and may Odin strike him down, _scared_. Tense moments passed. He stepped back and sheathed his sword, frowning.

"Get up," He spat, "And go home."

He turned to rejoin the battle, not looking back, not even as he heard the boy rise. There was no point; he would never see him again. Why would he? No one stuck in a body like that would be stupid enough to revisit the battlefield. No, he would never see him again.

* * *

Hiccup watched the Night Fury go as he walked calmly away. It was so surreal. Hiccup wouldn't have believed it had happened were it not for the stinging sensation of the nick on his neck. Hiccup shook the fog out of his head. He had to go back. There was nothing else he could do here.

So in a daze, Hiccup climbed back up out of the Death Line, only barely remembering to retrieve his wooden contraption from where it fell at the base of the slope. His muscles burned from the exertion of dragging the heavy thing behind him, but he didn't care. In fact he hardly even felt it.

After all, he had just met the Night Fury.

Furthermore, he was still alive.


	5. Chapter 5: Second Sighting

I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter up. All my classes have finally realized that we're getting close to the end of the year, so they're trying to cram everything in. ^_^;;; Updates will continue to be a little sporadic until after May 7th, by which time I'll return to a more frequent schedule. Thank you for your continued awesomeness in regards to my story. I really appreciate the support. =D

Enjoy!

The Death Line by SilverstarsEbonyskies

Ch.5: Second Sighting

It had only been a few minutes since Hiccup had drudged back up to his house, his mind hazy and unfocused. The adrenaline had worn off completely now, leaving him beyond exhausted. With short, dragging steps, he'd made it up to his room. He had sloppily shoved his invention back under the bed and then just knelt there for a moment, contemplating. He had tried to tease his thoughts into coherency, but his mind was like a patch of quicksand, taking a hold of its victims and dragging them down into obscurity.

With a grunt, he hauled himself back up to standing and then let himself roll onto the bed. His feet rubbed against themselves uselessly until his right found purchase and shed the boot off of his left. He kicked his other boot off, not caring where it landed. He would have wormed under his covers, but he decided at that moment that sleep was a very, very good thing. Mere seconds later, he was lost in dreams of chill winds, dark shadows, and a strange, out of place smell. The smell of sulfur.

* * *

Thunderously heavy steps roused Hiccup from his slumber, and he knew his father had returned home. Berk had successfully repelled the invasion, though from how slowly his father walked he could tell it had been a grueling fight. Both sides, he imagined, had suffered a great many losses. It was always so strange to wake up on a morning like this and wander through town, realizing that he would never again see some of the people he'd grown up knowing. He had never been very close with the people of his village, but it still left him feeling hollow, a little less alive.

Sluggishly, Hiccup crawled out of bed and searched for his boots, pulling them on just as his father entered the room. His dad looked haggard. Understandably so, since he had been in the thick of battle throughout the entire night. He hadn't cleaned up yet, so he was awash with the dirt, sweat, and blood earned by the hours of intense battling. The smell of his sweat was particularly pungent. Hiccup tried not to make a face when he stepped closer.

"You're awake," His father commented, surprised.

"Uh, yeah. I was wondering," Hiccup said, words flying out of his mouth before he even realized what they were, "If, maybe, I could...help?"

"Help?" His father repeated blearily, "With what?"

"Uh, y'know, the...uh, cleanup. O-on the battlefield."

It took a while for comprehension to dawn. "You...?" He started incredulously, "You wouldn't touch the dead with the end of a stick! Where's this sudden interest coming from, son?" He was baffled.

"I-I just...I just feel I should," Hiccup said, rubbing the back of his neck in nervousness, "They...got really close last night." Of course, neither of those statements were lies; they just weren't quite the reasons why he wanted to go back there.

"Hiccup..." His father started to say, eyes fixed on his son's clothes, but he changed his mind mid-thought and sighed. "Fine. Just stay out of trouble and get back to Gobber for warrior training."

"Thanks dad." Hiccup said with a smile.

It was at least fifteen minutes later before he realized something. As he bent down, hands cupped to capture some water to drink; it struck him as he glanced absentmindedly at his reflection. The red dirt from the Death Line clung to his garments, brutally obvious, completely evident. Hiccup whirled, his back facing the large bucket, and craned his head behind him. Streaks of the stuff ran down his back from when he had been flung down to the ground. It wouldn't have been much more visible if he intentionally rolled around in it.

Hiccup frantically splashed water on himself, rubbing the dirt out. It wouldn't be good if any of the villagers spotted that on him. He scrubbed himself into squeaky clean sogginess before he made his way over into the forest. He walked on automatically, mind working furiously.

There was no way his father hadn't seen that. So, why hadn't he said anything? Also, why was he letting Hiccup go back?

* * *

Fang wasted no time in attempting to get an audience with Adder. Once the battle came to a standstill, with both clans forced into a retreat, he immediately tried to find her. Oddly enough, he couldn't spot her anywhere. On the way back to the village, he kept his focus sharp, but still there was no trace. She simply wasn't there. As Chief Commander, the absence was strange.

He prowled the village restlessly for a couple of minutes before deciding that he should at least waste his time constructively. He could feel the blood caked onto him. Now that his battle fervor had worn off, it just made him feel uncomfortable, a certain itch he couldn't shake off. He needed to clean off.

Fang ventured into the woods and sought an isolated spot where he could wash the grime away. Everyone, except apparently Adder, was in the village right now. They wouldn't go to the Death Line to search for their dead until the night fell again, so he was assured of his privacy. Just, however, to be perfectly sure, he returned to his clearing. He'd come here many times previously to cleanse himself from the filth of battle.

The chirp of the morning birds and the subtle murmur of the stream welcomed him as he knelt by the bank. He waited a moment there to take in his reflection. Sharp eyes, sharper teeth, and a stone hard expression with blood specked and smeared across his face. This, he thought, could be a warrior's visage, a face to command respect one day.

An inexplicable irritation seized him, twisting his expression, and he forced himself away from his thoughts. Scowling, he brought his face closer to the water and splashed it onto his face. He sloughed off the crusted blood and dirt with rigid movements, going through his routine mechanically. Once his face was clean, he removed his leather vest and outer shirt, submerging them and working them against the river rocks to remove the grime. The repetitive motion soothed him back into placidity.

Fang rose and went to the nearest tree. He meticulously wrung the shirt out and set them upon a lower branch to dry. It would take a while. The weather could never be classified as warm, even in the middle of summer, and it was only mid-spring. Fang didn't mind the cold though, even in only his undershirt. He was used to it.

On a whim, he went to the far end of the clearing and passed the couple yards of trees separating it from the rim of the Death Line. He stayed at the tree line to stay hidden and peered down into the valley. Berkians were everywhere, gathering their dead and, as ceremoniously as the lumbering fools could, carried them back to their village for a proper burial. It was completely unremarkable.

Yet there, struggling, a smaller figure tried to climb the opposite wall, overburdened by a particularly hefty Berkian Viking. Reach, step, hobble, drag, slip, stop, and reach again. It was him, the impudent, scrawny boy from last night. The little Viking was obviously going nowhere fast. He almost always lost whatever small progress he made, but still he continued the arduous process. The determination was admirable, Fang had to admit, but there was no way he'd be able to actually get both himself and that heavy corpse up there. It was an exercise in futility.

Fang stared for a moment, and then, slowly, settled himself down on the floor, sitting with his legs crossed, eyes fixed on the opposite cliff.

He just watched and waited for his clothes to dry.


	6. Chapter 6: Second Encounter

So it obviously took much longer than I expected to be able to post this chapter up, but I am now officially free of classes. So from now on things should be a lot more snappy. ^_^ Anyways, as a bit of a consolation, this chapter's a bit longer than usual.

Enjoy. =D

The Death Line by SilverstarsEbonyskies

Ch. 6: Second Encounter

Hiccup struggled, sweat dripping sticky paths down his face; his hair pressed thinly against his forehead. The urge to wipe his brow almost overpowered him, but he fought the compulsion and tightened his grip on the Viking's corpse. He tried to keep focused, despite being lightheaded, but his mind swirled in mad circles. He had known this man, the one he held on his back, like he knew all the dead from his village. His name had been Gnaw. He had run a shop of miscellaneous odds and ends, which his wife would have to take over now. He had never minded when Hiccup came in to explore the knick-knacks...

He was so, so heavy, and Hiccup was sure he'd drop him if he didn't keep hold with both of his hands. He could envision the big man slipping off of his back and tumbling down the rocky cliff, head cracking sickeningly against it with every rotation. The thought made him pale, even though the previous exertions had made his face a shockingly bright red.

Looking up, Hiccup squinted. It was approaching midday. He'd have to hurry. Warrior training would have been postponed due to the work that needed to get done, but it would be soon. In fact, most of the dead had been cleared out already. He would even be the last one back if he didn't hurry. The slope was so steep though, and Gnaw had been one of the largest men in the village. Alas, Hiccup hadn't had a choice. One of the villagers had pointed him towards the corpse and ordered him to take it. All the villagers within hearing distance would have thrown a fit if he had dared to refuse. Hiccup wouldn't have doubted if it was done out of spite. She had to have known that he wouldn't be able to carry him up there with any efficiency.

Hiccup grunted as he strained upwards again, comforted by one thing. He knew for a fact that the Night Fury wasn't among the deceased. His curiosity had impelled him to check meticulously for his black hair and dark clothes. He would have noticed immediately if he'd been there. He would have stood out. So he wasn't dead. Probably. He could be mortally wounded now, wasting away his last moments in his own village, but somehow that didn't seem like the way a man like him would die.

Hiccup wrestled the corpse up the cliff little by little, seeking footholds large enough to support the weight without crumbling. This would have been so much easier if he could have used one of his hands, but he was constrained by his lack of muscle. Gods damn it, why was he so weak? He had stopped feeling the burn a while ago, but such a weighty tiredness fell upon him at this moment that he had to stop and tremble. He couldn't stop now; he'd come so far, the furthest he'd ever gotten trying to lug this thing. The villagers would be incensed at him if he came back empty-handed, and...he just wanted so badly to finally _succeed_ at something, to prove himself at least vaguely competent.

The moment passed, the weight lifting, and he moved upwards again, soldiering on to the top. He was still exhausted, but he couldn't, wouldn't, let himself stop again. He was mere feet away now. Inch by inch, he closed the gap, until, to his surprised relief, he could just barely see over the cusp of the cliff to the trees beyond. With a gargantuan effort, he heaved the corpse up and over him to lie on the flat land in front of him, and bracing his hands on the edge, he pulled himself over too. He lay there next to that corpse, gasping for breath. He almost felt numb from the exertion.

Just as the tension was about to leave him, just as he was about to let himself enjoy his small victory, he heard the sound of clumsy footsteps lumbering through the brush a few feet away. Hiccup sprang to his feet, wanting anything but to appear weak. He needn't have bothered. The short and thuggish figure of Snotlout emerged from the forest. He seemed as though he were looking for something, and he looked taken aback when he realized Hiccup was there. Snotlout immediately became defensive.

"What are _you_ doing here?" He sneered, crossing his arms, "Shouldn't you be at the village, loser?"

Before Hiccup could answer, Snotlout noticed the corpse beside him, "Ahahaha, what, trying to actually be useful? You should know you're too lame for that. I thought by now you'd lock yourself away in your house to rot for the good of the village."

Hiccup's face and neck burned with a humiliated flush, and he couldn't make himself meet Snotlout's eyes. Hiccup's tongue itched with the need to say something sarcastic as a retort, but he held himself in check. He had a bad feeling about this.

Snotlout smirked stupidly and trudged a few, threatening steps closer to Hiccup. "You know the only reason we haven't all run you out is because of your dad." He laughed, and continued on in a cruel imitation of piteous tone, "And our poor chief only keeps you hoping you'll shape up one day. Y'know, hoping you'll actually turn into a real Viking."

Hiccup reeled, stunned at the unusually pointed accusations, and edged back as Snotlout took another step. Hiccup felt hemmed in, trapped. It was a discomfiting though not unfamiliar feeling.

"So how about it, Hiccup?" Snotlout scoffed, "Are you a Viking yet?"

Still, Hiccup didn't answer, but it didn't seem like one had been expected. Snotlout took another step. He was right in front of Hiccup now, and any sense of joviality Snotlout had dropped from his face, leaving an uncharacteristically cold expression.

"I should be the chief's son." He spat with frigid spite, "I can fight better than you, people like me better than you, and I fit in better than you. I am a Viking! I belong here."

Snotlout pushed forward one more step, his face inches from Hiccup's, and he grasped Hiccup's shoulders with a steely grip. He seemed possessed with hatred.

"You don't." Snotlout hissed. He flung his arms out, flinging Hiccup backwards.

Hiccup flailed, arms flying out, feet searching for purchase. There was none; he was over the edge, and he was falling.

* * *

Fang sped through the rocky valley of the Death Line, inwardly cursing himself the whole way. This was none of his business. The kid and his troubles had nothing to do with him. He understood that they were both, in a sense, outcasts, but that did not obligate him to help. Why should he even be concerned?

Yet, despite his continued mental protests, he found himself moving faster to where he saw the Berkian boy fall. It wasn't likely that he died. The incline was steep, but not a sheer drop. He would have broken his fall several times on the way down. The only real danger was if he smashed his head against the rock on the way...

Fang quickened his pace when he spotted the boy crumpled in a heap at the base of the incline. He spared a glance upwards, just to make sure the malicious idiot who had pushed the boy over wasn't still hanging around, and then knelt at the boy's side. He was unconscious —that much was readily apparent— but breathing. With brusque but gentle hands, he arranged the boy on his back and prodded around his body, searching thoroughly for injuries of any kind. His fingertips came away red after touching the scalp; Fang frowned. A blow to the head then, but no other serious injuries. If it was hard enough, however, a strike to the skull could leave someone incapacitated for life.

He had to wake the boy up. Fang, though, didn't particularly want to be seen. He sighed and then roughly tried to shake him awake anyways. The kinder side of his nature was getting the better of him, and it made Fang uneasy. He shouldn't be associating himself with members of the enemy clan. So what the hell was he doing?

Cutting his internal debate short, Fang stopped shaking him and pushed himself out of kneeling and into a crouch. There hadn't been any response from the shaking, not even a flutter of an eyelid. He cradled his own head in his hands and massaged his temples.

"I should just leave you here," Fang muttered, "This isn't my problem."

Looking at the boy's face, he tried to tell himself that. It wasn't his problem; it wasn't his problem. He'd already gone above and beyond what anyone could ever expect of him. The boy had spared his life before, and he had spared his. They had no obligations between them. There existed no reason why he should do anything else for this underfed scrap of a Viking, of a Berkian.

And yet...

Resigned, Fang slipped his arms under him and lifted him up, rising to his feet as he did so. There was just something intriguing about him. Something strange, unusual. To be honest, he didn't even seem like part of the Berk clan, nor did he seem like a true Viking. He had no doubt that this was why he was an outsider in his own village. What is different is scorned, and Fang knew this from experience.

So just this once, Fang would extend his help towards this sad creature. Just this once, he would act generously towards his enemy beyond the bonds of debt. After this, he vowed, no more. His life's goal was to be his clan's greatest and most respected warrior. One day, he might be called upon to slay this boy. He would have no qualms.

He spent the short journey up the wall of the valley reassuring himself of this. War was not forgiving, was not kind, and was not pretty. He knew in the course of his life there would be many things that might unsettle him late at night after the battle frenzy had faded away, when he lay awake without the comfort of dreams. That was the path he had been born to, and the path he would follow until his own death, whenever that may be.

He was destined to shed blood for the sake of his clan, he told himself as he lay the boy down at the crest, Berkian blood. Nothing would change that.

Just as he was about to draw away, leaving the boy to be found by his kin, the boy himself began to shift. The boy groaned, gaining consciousness. Fang froze and watched as the boy sat up and felt his injury. He didn't move, even when the boy's eyes landed on him.

"W-what...?'' The boy questioned, frazzled.

Fang almost didn't reply, and his face became stony and expressionless when he did. "You fell and went unconscious. I carried you up."

"Heh, I didn't think we'd meet again, let alone like this." The boy said, "I guess...I guess I should thank you." He went on when Fang said nothing in response, "...Um. Well. My name's Hiccup."

Fang almost snorted. An odd name for an odd boy. The boy, Hiccup he supposed, was looking at him expectantly. It dawned on him that he wanted his name in return. He felt a flash of anger at that. As if this scrawny thing was entitled to anything at all. He bet the boy already knew it anyways. He was somewhat infamous in Berk.

But the boy began to look downcast, and without his consent he said, "Fang."

Hiccup smiled, "Fang, huh? Kind of a scary name." He chuckled, "But y'know, you're really not that bad. I mean, I'm still alive, right?"

Fang frowned.

"Would it be alright if I called you something else instead?"

No. No it wouldn't. Fang, however, failed to vocalize this.

"Toothless." The boy said grinning.


	7. Chapter 7: Under the Surface

This chapter is unforgivably late. Many, many things have been going on in my life. I'd list them all, but I'm pretty sure that's not what you're here for. Hopefully, you all haven't forgotten what this story's about. XD Anyways, I hope you still can enjoy this update, and be assured that updates will still keep on coming. :) Lastly, I want to thank you for over 100 reviews! Thank you so much!

The Death Line by SilverstarsEbonyskies

Ch.7: Under the Surface

Toothless. The name clanged through his head, the very sound of it mocking Fang. Was this some sort of a joke? Was this pathetic little weakling attempting to _insult_ him? Toothless, Fang scoffed, he was anything but. As if to prove his point, Fang snarled, baring his frighteningly unusual teeth as if he was going to take a bite out of the stupid boy. To his satisfaction Hiccup reeled back, cringing.

"My name is Fang," he said bluntly, his snarl morphing into a more normal frown, "I don't want your idiotic nickname."

"Ah. Well," Hiccup mumbled, fidgeting, "I was just..."

Hiccup's voice trailed into nothingness. Fang wasn't sure how he would've explained himself, but he didn't really care. He was done with this boy.

"We have no need to know each others name," Fang said coldly, "This is the last time I show you mercy. The next time we meet, if we ever meet again, will be on the battlefield, and you will not be spared."

Fang turned away, making his way back down the valley and leaving Hiccup to his surprise. Fang's thoughts turned sour. Toothless. No matter how he looked at it, it was an insult. This Hiccup was a stupid, stupid boy. He should never have bothered.

* * *

Hiccup brought the corpse back to the village in a daze, focused solely on thinking through everything that had happened since last night. He was preoccupied primarily with three people. His mind worked back and forth, mulling on these three and the events connected with them.

First there was the Night Fury. No, that name just didn't feel right. Back when he'd never seen him before, he seemed more like a myth than a man. Now that he had met him, seen his actions, he didn't think the name fit at all. Fang? No. Not that either. Despite his harsh words, he was gentler than that.

Well, Hiccup would grudgingly admit that Fang was a fitting name, if only based on the man's appearance. He was, in truth, very intimidating, but Hiccup was convinced that wasn't really in his nature. For all the man's bluster and biting words, there was no denying the fact that he had just tried to save Hiccup only moments ago. His words were sharp, but his actions were soft, at least as far as Vikings went. Actually, Hiccup was pretty sure no one else would have done something like that for him, excepting his dad and Gobber.

Hiccup suspected that Fang—no not Fang —Toothless was kinder than he cared to admit. Toothless, Hiccup thought, was surely a better name for him, although judging from his abrupt and angry departure not one he took so well to. Looking back, Hiccup wasn't surprised at his reaction. He'd just blurted out something, anything. He'd just wanted to call him by a name that wasn't so cruel-sounding, so monstrous. Toothless was what came out. Well, bad naming must be the one thing he shared with everyone else in his village, but now Hiccup couldn't think of calling him anything else.

Maybe it was foolish to keep thinking about names. When would they ever see each other again? They were on the same island, sure, but in their situation, they couldn't be farther apart. They could never be friends even if Fang—ugh, no, Hiccup still couldn't use that name— warmed up to him. _Toothless_ had been right. They were from enemy clans, and therefore were enemies. Enemies.

That didn't stop Hiccup from wishing that they weren't.

* * *

The second person on his mind, Hiccup pondered as he sat and watched Roughnut and Fishlegs spar, was Snotlout. He was sitting right next to him, and it was impossible not to think of that morning, of falling. His skull throbbed worse with the memory. Snotlout didn't give an indication of, well, anything. He sniggered at the appropriate moments, when either Ruffnut or Fishlegs did something stupid, and egged them on when they were in the middle of a particularly intense clash. It was as if he was a different person than he was that morning.

Or...maybe Hiccup wasn't looking hard enough. He watched Snotlout carefully out of the corner of his eye, trying to be discreet. As he looked, things became more obvious. The signs were everywhere, small and hidden, but there. Strain pulled at the corners of Snotlout's eyes and mouth, and fists he jabbed upwards with cheers were perhaps a little too tight. Something was wrong.

The discovery disturbed Hiccup, and for a while he couldn't think of anything else but the look in Snotlout's eyes when he pushed Hiccup off the edge.

* * *

The third person on Hiccup's mind was difficult to escape from. Hiccup, mercifully, hadn't seen his father in the house after warrior training, and had been able to flee up to his room unquestioned. He really hadn't felt like explaining his abysmal form or continued failure to land a hit on his opponents during spars. One of his sparring partners had inevitably been Snotlout, and with every blow Hiccup clumsily blocked, he could feel his malice and his scorn. Hiccup's arms still had yet to regain all their feeling.

Hiccup was still in the middle of rubbing sensation back into his arms when his burly father squeezed through the small doorway into his room. Hiccup gave him a sideways glance. His father looked weary. Wearier than he'd ever seen him, and that gave him pause. He could see the worry and the strain, the tiredness and the exhaustion etched in every line on his face. There was something, Hiccup could tell, that he wanted to say. They both stood there for a moment, a rare moment of speechlessness, contemplating each other, each waiting for the other to speak.

His father sighed and sat down on a stool that was much too small for him. His shoulders were slumping, unlike his normal, proud posture. In that small instant, Hiccup wanted to tell him everything, like he used to as a child, babble on about everything from the catastrophically important to the small. But he was older now, further apart from his father, and the awkwardness between them sealed his lips.

His father waited a moment more before speaking, "Son...I know I'm not always the best listener, and I usually don't understand what you're talking about...but you know you can always talk 'ta me, right? About anything?"

"Heh, uh...sure dad." Hiccup replied, unbelieving.

"No, really son. 'Cause I've been noticing...well, something weird's been goin' on with 'ya. Well, weirder than usual anyway. An' I was hoping you'd want 'ta talk 'ta me about it."

His father leaned forward expectantly, intent upon Hiccup, and it nearly impossible to deny him, but Hiccup found a way. He turned his head to the side and fixed his eyes upon the floor, willing himself to ignore his father's pleading gaze.

"Ah, not really. Uh, I mean, nothing's wrong or anything, ha..."

Hiccup fumbled with a piece of charcoal on his desk, steadfastly refusing to meet his father's eyes. He was expecting his dad to sigh, look downcast, give up. That was normal, routine. That didn't happen.

"HICCUP!" His father roared, smashing a fist down on the desk, splintering up the side with the impact. "I know, I _know_ something's going on with ya. You can try to hide it but I'm not stupid, son. I know you were down in the Death Line last night —you, who nearly faints at the smell 'a blood —and volunteering to help with the dead? That's not like ya at all!"

His worry-fed anger spent, his father returned to his slump, "I just, I just want to know that you're okay. So tell me son, what's been going on?"

As that question hung in the air, Hiccup's mind sped through his options. The truth? That he had actually caught the notorious Night Fury, let him go, was almost killed by him, was spared, and then was saved by him? That Snotlout tried to kill him? Gods, it was all too hard to believe, even for him. He couldn't imagine his father buying it, let alone taking it well. What else could he say? That he just...just wanted to be one of them, a Viking? And that was why he went down to the Death Line? It was true; it was, in fact, why he went down to the Death Line. It wasn't, Hiccup realized with no small amount of surprise, his main concern anymore. That desire had been pushed far to the back of his mind ever since he set Toothless free, and threw away the chance and the glory. Suddenly he realized that he had no goal anymore, nothing to work towards. He no longer wanted so badly to fit in. He...he didn't really want to be a Viking.

What else could he say? Stick to his lie, that nothing was wrong? Hiccup finally steeled himself and met his father's eyes with his own. He couldn't. He just couldn't brush his father off like that. What then? A half-lie, or the truth? Hiccup took in a deep breath.

"I only wanted to help," he said, "Everyone...well everyone always does more than me, you know?"

His father smiled and looked relieved. He stood up and set his large hand on Hiccup's shoulder. "I know you want 'ta help out around here, son, but you already do! You help with the weapon smithing and I know, son, that you'll make it through Warrior Training. It...might take a long, long time, but you can do it."

Hiccup, wracked with guilt, looked up into his father's eyes and smiled, in what he hoped was a thankful manner. "Uh, thanks dad."

"No problem, son. I know you'll make a great Viking one day." His father smiled reassuringly, "Just don't try to rush it. And for my sake, don't sneak down 'ta the Death Line again. You nearly gave me a heart attack." He scolded.

"Aha, of course not. Nope. Won't ever do that again."

A half-lie it was then. Hiccup tried ignore the feeling that this would all come crashing down around him later. The things that had happened to him weren't all that bad. He could straighten this out. He could handle himself, right? Right?

Maybe.

* * *

A largely introspective chapter, but things should start to get much more exciting after this. :)


	8. Chapter 8: Sunset

Thank you for your wonderful comments. :) I appreciate the support despite my long absence. I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

The Death Line by SilverstarEbonyskies

Ch. 8: Sunset

Fang prowled around the village, on the look out for Adder. The Chief Commander had been unbelievably elusive as of late. It was, Fang knew, understandable considering the circumstances. They had sustained heavy losses from the raid last night, and Adder was probably trying to organize the crew who would go down at night and bring the dead back up for a proper burial. It wasn't, however, any less annoying.

The scale Fang held bothered him in a way he couldn't explain. It was unarguably foreign, strange, but still disturbingly familiar. He would get no peace until he talked to Adder about it, he was sure. It felt important.

So he combed through, searching, waiting, and making sure to avoid being seen by his father. It wouldn't be far-fetched to say that his father was at the end of his rope in regards to Fang. Even setting aside Fang's natural tendency to flagrantly disregard the rules in favor of his own reasoning, which Fang knew drove his father to exasperation, his father nursed a growing concern over Fang himself. About what, Fang couldn't guess. So what if he was trying hard to prove himself? Was that not expected of every Viking's child? To earn his place?

Unless...no, it was impossible. His father couldn't possibly know about that Berkian boy. Hiccup, he was apparently called. The thought made him nervous, jittery. But no, he reminded himself, in both situations he'd met the boy, his father couldn't have been anywhere near. Besides, he would never have cause to met him again. There was no cause for alarm. He was not associating with the enemy.

Yes, he had cut what little ties there had been with the boy; he had no debts to repay. As soon as he gave the scale to Adder, everything to return to normalcy. His days would return to being a blur of training, eating, training, and battling. Everything would be right again. Thinking about this promised future, Fang felt something akin to dread and couldn't figure out why.

* * *

It was almost sundown when Fang finally caught sight of Adder, who was listening stoically to the complaints of some villagers. Fang stood off to the side and waited, perhaps less than patiently, for their one-sided conversation to end.

After Adder judged they'd ranted quite enough, she cut them off: "I'll keep your comments in mind, but there isn't anything I can do. I could let any one of you onto the night crew, but I doubt you'd be any more likely to recover the missing bodies than those already assigned."

Her cool response successfully dispersed them, but grumblings still persisted here and there. Missing corpses... Were they oversights made in the dark? Or was there someone, or something, taking them? The thought was chilling. The villagers, though projecting anger, were clearly scared.

Fang only half-listened to these whispered theories as he, finally, walked up to Adder. She was dressed in her typical garb of muted yellows, many shades darker than her spiky blonde hair, and as she crossed her arms, her piercing blue eyes took in his approach. Normally, Fang didn't like conversing with Adder. While he respected her greatly, she was even less of a conversationalist than he was. She had a reputation for being frigid and, when pushed past her liking, she could have a fiery temper. In short, she was a particularly difficult person to deal with, and Fang wasn't good at dealing with people. But Fang was determined. This was an issue that had to be brought up. He was sure of it.

"It looks like you have something to say," Adder said. She waited for him to respond, but he stayed silent. "Well?" She prompted.

Now that he was about to speak, he felt suddenly hesitant. But no, this was the right thing to do. "I found something in the river yesterday."

"Oh?" She said raising an eyebrow.

Fang decided words were useless with her, and so pulled out the scale in lieu of an explanation. The bright blue sparkle of it danced in her eyes and Fang swore that he saw surprise. Her face immediately hardened, and if she hadn't been serious before, she was deadly serious now.

"I think you need to follow me." She said, turning sharply on her heel and trudging up to her cabin.

Fang obediently trailed behind, wondering exactly what about the scale warranted such secrecy. The Chief Commander was tense, her steps clipped and pace brisk. Her reaction confirmed it then. This scale was definitely important. Perhaps more than he first realized.

Adder opened the door to the cabin and ushered Fang in, closing the door behind him. Fang couldn't help noticing how sparse the inside was. It was difficult to imagine someone actually living in there. There were no fires or candles burning, which in the sunset lighting, hinted at a deep darkness soon to come.

"So," she said plainly, "You found something."

"It's a scale," Fang replied, taking it out again and holding it out to her.

"Is it." She said, blankly.

"...yes." Fang responded, becoming annoyed, "Isn't it obvious?"

"It is larger than the size of a scale." She frowned, reaching for it. Fang pulled it back from her grasp.

"Yes, it is," Fang hissed, "That's the_ point_. There's a creature large enough to shed scales of this size!"

"Really." Adder's expression was indecipherable, eyes fixed on it.

"Do you have any other explanation?" Fang burst, exasperated, "It's the perfect shape; what else could it be?"

"I'm not obligated to theorize with you."

"I know there's something going on! You can't make me believe otherwise, no matter how dense you act!" Fang was at the end of his patience. He was not one for dancing around a subject.

Adder's gaze turned sharp. "I am fully aware of what that object is and where it's from. It's not, however, your privilege to know."

"Does anyone else know?" Fang demanded, taking a step forward.

"..."

"You're keeping it from us!" He accused, suspicion growing, "This could threaten our lives! What gives you the right?"

"I am Chief Commander," She said icily, "That gives me the right." She opened the door. "Now get out."

"No." Fang spat, fists clenched tone venomous, "Not until you tell me what this came from."

"**Do ****not**** question me!**" She roared, face transformed to fury, "You forget your place! Crawl back to your father and leave me in peace."

A second passed in stony silence before Fang, defeated, left the cabin. He clutched the scale in his right hand and saw the sun disappear into the horizon. He saw the darkness move in, and for once, it didn't feel comforting to him. In those few, short minutes in that cabin, the world changed.

Fang felt powerless, disappointed, alone.

* * *

Hiccup crept down the stairs at a glacial pace. Step, pause, wait, step, pause, wait. He'd never tried to sneak out of the house before, and he knew the stairs could make horrible creaks. He might have been being overly cautious. His father was a deep, deep sleeper. Hiccup's heart, however, was pounding with nervousness, and he didn't feel like risking it.

Finally, he made it down, and he tiptoed delicately to the heavy door. His father's heavy snores assured him that he hadn't been discovered, so he gently eased the door open, wincing as it groaned. The snores continued, and Hiccup exhaled a sigh of relief. He slipped out into the night and down into the forest.

Hiccup didn't have a habit of wandering about outside the village after the sun fell. He usually took to his room, lit a candle, and drew designs and schematics until he fell asleep. So being out there in the dark, with not a soul in sight, was an unnerving experience. The night before, he had seen familiar people, had been so full to the brim with his dreams of glory, that he didn't notice the way the forest felt at night. Foreboding, closed off, secretive, eery.

The moon hung above, waning, but still full enough to shed its silvery light through the branches. Slowly, Hiccup's eyes adjusted to the gloom as he trampled through the brush. He needed to see something. He'd promised his father he wouldn't go back, but...he couldn't. He had questions; he needed to know the answers. He wasn't the type of person to stunt his own curiosity. He was the type to encourage it, which, looking back, probably caused more harm than good. But Hiccup couldn't help it. It was in his nature.

He was going to Toothless' village. Nothing would dissuade him.


	9. Chapter 9: Surprise

I'm trying to keep these fast-pace updates up. Hopefully I'll be able to sustain this speed for a while. XD Anyways, as always, I'm grateful for your kind comments and reviews. :) Please enjoy.

The Death Line by SilverstarsEbonyskies

Ch. 9: Surprise

Hiccup scrambled down the rocky incline and down into the no-man's land of the Death Line. The ground at the bottom exuded the smell of human gristle and rot. Further on, he knew, were bloating corpses ripened by the day's sun. The stench was horrible, and Hiccup had to wait a couple minutes, staving off the urge to vomit. It was so much worse than this morning, unbelievably so.

Hiccup calmed down and forced himself to ignore his unsettled stomach. As he walked closer to the middle of the great valley, he could feel his boots squishing deeper into the ground. He tried to steer clear of the area where most of the fallen lay. He didn't want to see those newly malformed faces.

That decision most likely saved his life.

Hiccup froze. A few torches bobbed in the distance, growing ever closer to the spread of corpses. Indistinct voices carried over the stagnant air, and sooner than Hiccup would've liked, the people themselves came into his sight. Hiccup panicked. Could they see him? He tried to silently run off behind a sizable crag of rock, but his foot caught on something, and he fell face first into the mushy ground.

Heart pounding, he waited for someone to discover him. It didn't happen. He gingerly lifted his head and peered over at the small group. They had been too absorbed in their talk to notice. It was a group of six Draconian men, half of which were holding torches to light the way. They seemed intent upon their conversation, and snatches of it made their way to Hiccup's ears as he strained to listen:

"...don't like this...suspicious...must be someone."

"...don't think...missing."

"...want to do?"

"We'll...search...go through...find...search...Death Line."

"...take all night!"

"Probably."

"...fine. After we...the dead."

The group broke out of their huddle and went about their business, taking the fallen and arranging them in piles to take back up to their home village. Hiccup, trying desperately to be inconspicuous, crawled the last couple of feet behind the jut of rock. He exhaled silently, the ordeal over for the moment, and made a face when he realized how much muck was on his face. He wiped the majority of it off with his sleeve, but he could still feel the grime, and smell the odor of the Death Line on him. He tried to wipe it off his clothes, but was even less successful.

But wait, there was something stuck to his boot. Was this the stupid little rock that tripped him up? Hiccup reached out and grabbed it, bringing it up to the moonlight for closer inspection. It probably was what made him fall, but it wasn't like any other rock he'd ever seen. In fact, it sort of looked like...a giant scale. It shimmered an entrancing, soft blue in the light of the moon. Hiccup had never seen anything like it. How strange. Hiccup pocketed the object and peeked over the hunk of rock. The men were now shouldering the dead, two or three to a person —depending on whether or not they held a torch as well— and began heading back.

Hiccup considered turning back, going home. But no, he couldn't give up. He was too far to turn back. He was getting nervous, true, but this was important. He was sure.

So he, staying safely out of sight, began to follow the Draconians to their village.

* * *

Hiccup found a few more of the scale-like things on the way. They were surprisingly plentiful, once Hiccup knew what to look for. Hiccup trailed along, surprised by how easy this all had gone. One would think that sneaking behind a group of his enemies would be a bit more difficult, but they proved to be pretty oblivious. Well, Hiccup thought, it wasn't like anyone else but him would be stupid enough to try something like this.

Scaling the slope on the other side of the Death Line proved more challenging, however. Loose rocks and other debris were bound to make noise. Hiccup could only hope that the group's noise drowned out his own. Hiccup made sure to move in time with them, even though it nearly caused him to slip a few times. Luckily, with his careful efforts, the group didn't overhear him.

When they'd all made it up onto flat ground, they continued through a forest that looked much like the one on the other side, only every once in a while, Hiccup would notice the silvery gleam of water through the occasional gaps in the trees. The quiet babbling of the stream was comforting in the dark.

The group of men in front of them exited the forest with their lifeless cargo and bee-lined for the village. Hiccup hung back behind the tree line, not wanting to be out in the open. He saw the group greeted by what he presumed was a lookout at the front, and a scary-looking woman who carried herself with an air of authority. Hiccup, intimidated, backed up deeper into the forest. The woman, after talking briefly with the group and pointing them somewhere, the woman took a long, hard look out into the forest. Hiccup had the unnerving sensation that she knew someone was out there. That he was out there. His fears, thankfully, turned out to be unfounded when she turned away at the behest of one of the other villagers.

Hiccup would have to find another way in. There was no chance that he was going to get by her, let alone both her and the lookout. It wasn't going to happen. He'd just have to circle around and see if there was a better way, one that hopefully wouldn't end in being captured and killed.

Hiccup was seriously beginning to reconsider the state of his own sanity at this point. Still, he trudged on and around. There were some scattered trees and foliage that ran up to the sides of the village border, but nothing particularly substantial, so Hiccup sneaked forward, harboring the constant fear that someone, somewhere would be looking were he was at the exact wrong moment. It was nerve-wracking.

A beacon of hope appeared in his sight. A tall tree, blown askew by some storm, stood diagonally by the wooden wall. Long branches stuck out of its sides. It would be a bit difficult to bridge the gap between the limbs and the top of the wall, but Hiccup thought he could manage it. Maybe.

Still shaky with the thought that he could be caught, Hiccup slowly and steadily climbed the tree. Never the athletic sort, it was rough going, but Hiccup pulled himself up to the right branch. Now it was just a matter of —the branch creaked with his weight and Hiccup froze. He really, really didn't want to die by breaking his neck. Not a very heroic way to go. Inch by tortuous inch, Hiccup scooted closer to the wall, praying the branch could hold him. It swayed, but didn't snap. Hiccup, for once, thanked the gods for his small frame.

Now the last, and probably most difficult part. Getting over. It was a mere two feet, but that two foot difference was terrifying this high up. Gathering his courage, Hiccup positioned himself, perching, crouched on the limb. This whole thing was a horrible, horrible idea, but Hiccup was committed now. So he took a deep breath and jumped...

...right over the fence, landing right on someone's roof. Well. Not quite what he'd planned on, but he was alive. But then he heard movement below him, and realized with horror that someone was in that house, and that someone had most likely heard his ungraceful landing.

"Gods damn it." Hiccup hissed, head whipping wildly around for some place to hide.

* * *

Fang had sulked in his room, nibbling on raw fish and thinking venomous thoughts for the past hour or so after he unsuccessful discussion with Adder. That whole fiasco had been humiliating, and he resented her for it. Not to mention that he discovered she was hiding something from everyone. That in particular bothered him immensely. What creature would need to be hidden in such a way? Would it not be better for them to send out a force to eliminate it? Or at the very least, make sure it wouldn't be of any danger? Why such secrecy? The mystery of it burned his mind with questions.

He was in the middle of his brooding when he heard a thump sounded from above him. The unexpectedness of it made him jump. Irritated, but slightly curious, he went outside to find out what it was. Maybe, he thought, that old tree lost a branch. So he looked up to the roof, expecting something mundane. Maybe the branch, maybe a dead animal. Though it would be rather heavy for an animal...

"Uh...hey Toothless." Hiccup whispered, who was currently flat on his stomach, trying to blend in and failing.

Fang stared, uncomprehending, at the scene. A dirt-streaked Berkian boy clinging to his roof. A Berkian, in the village. A Berkian across the Death Line. On the Draconian side. On his gods damned roof.

"Gods be-" Fang's tongue slipped, unable to articulate anything coherent.

"Heh, heh...uh...sorry." Hiccup scratched his head sheepishly, "Surprise?"


	10. Chapter 10: Turning Point

I'm rather proud of myself for posting another chapter so soon. XD This chapter put up quite a struggle though; I had a very difficult time writing it. I made many, many edits to it. Hopefully, it'll still be to your satisfaction. :) Oh, and exciting news: this story has now had over 10,000 hits! Thank you so much for the continued support! Enjoy. ^_^

The Death Line by SilverstarsEbonyskies

Ch. 10: Turning Point

"What," Fang spat, temper flaring, "Are you _doing_?"

Hiccup shuffled back up to a sitting position. "Um, well. You see-"

"You shouldn't be here!" Fang shouted, beginning to scale the house.

"Ah, do you mind being a little quieter? It's better not to make a scene..." Hiccup looked around nervously, glad that, for the moment, no one else was in sight.

Fang jumped up onto the roof and took a menacing step forward.

"Why? So that you're not discovered?" Fang fumed, "I _should_ make a scene! I should draw everyone here, yell as loudly as I can because YOU. SHOULDN'T. BE HERE."

"Shhhhhh!" Hiccup hissed, flailing wildly, "Please! Please be quiet."

Fang drew a knife hidden his his boot and brandished it at Hiccup's neck. "In fact, I should kill you right here for having the...the utterly stupid audacity of sneaking into the village! Landing on my roof! Do you have any idea what you're doing? Do you have any sense? It's...it's my duty to-I'm _obligated_ to kill you now!"

"Toothless-"

"Don't call me that!" Fang shouted, "That is not my name! My name is Fang, you absolute_ idiot_!"

Fang saw Hiccup's head drop and his shoulders slump in defeat and felt strangely bad about it. He tried, he really did, to stay mad, but his anger cooled without his permission. Fang suddenly felt a little ridiculous, standing on the roof of his house and waving a knife.

"You shouldn't, couldn't, have expected a warm welcome." Fang muttered, resigned. He re-sheathed his knife, but kept his gaze razor sharp.

"Heh, no, not really," Hiccup replied, lifting his head, a small rueful smile spread across his lips, "I...don't know what I was hoping to do, really."

Fang scoffed, unsurprised by this revelation. "So _why_ did you come? This is stupid and suicidal."

"I...I had to see what this place was like," Hiccup admitted, eyes combing over the landscape around him, all the huts and houses, the fences and fire pits, "All my life, and I've never seen another village." Hiccup met Fang's eyes. "Isn't that a little sad? I'd never left Berk. Ever."

"So? You feel a touch of wanderlust and decide to visit a town of people that won't will kill you on sight?" Fang questioned, skeptical and more than a little irritated.

"You hesitated." Hiccup pointed out, "And y'know," Hiccup continued, "This town looks so similar..." He shook his head. "The layout's different, and the ground's less rocky and tiered, but all the buildings are built the same way. I bet the people...I bet the people act the same, go about the same chores..."

Hiccup fell silent after that, overcome with some deep emotion Fang couldn't identify. Fang almost felt compelled to leave him to his musings, but their situation wouldn't let him. He had to speak.

"You need to go," Fang said bluntly, unsure why he was even being this kind,"Leave now. You were lucky, most of the people are on the other side of town, preparing the corpses, and my father's on night watch, but your luck won't hold out if you push it so far. You will get get killed if you stay."

"I can't." Hiccup mumbled.

"...what?" Fang asked, "For gods sakes, why not? You are putting your life in danger with every second you're here."

"Haha, I'm glad you're so worried for me," Hiccup chucked darkly, "but I can't go back. Not yet, anyways."

"Explain yourself," Fang demanded in impatience.

"The group that's bringing the dead back to your village, they were spooked about something and talking about searching the Death Line. It was easy to hide from them when they were all clumped together, but if they're going to spread out, trying to find something..."

"Missing corpses." Fang said.

"What?"

"There are whispers in the village about a corpse-stealer. Bodies have been going missing. And not just a couple." Fang's face darkened as he spoke, "Adder has been trying to cover a lot of things up lately-"

The sound of far-off voices arguing interrupted Fang. People were coming. He cursed, looked at Hiccup, and cursed again.

For a second, Fang deliberated, caught in indecision, but he made his choice, jumped off the roof, rolling to break his fall, and motioned for Hiccup to follow him. Hiccup clumsily, and agonizing slowly in Fang's mind, made his way down the side of Fang's house. At Fang's frantic urging, Hiccup finally dropped to the ground, narrowly avoided twisting his ankle in the process.

Fang quickly grabbed his arm and pushed him into the house, following immediately behind and slamming the door closed. Fang heard the voices grow closer and then slowly fade away. The people were gone. Fang gave a small smile in relief.

Suddenly, the weight of what he had done fell over him.

"What am I doing," he groaned, leaning against the door, close to feeling sick.

"What do you mean?" Hiccup asked, clueless.

"What do I mean." Fang echoed hollowly, "I mean I'm hiding the enemy. I'm acting against my clan. I'm...this is...this is traitorous. I could be banished, killed, for this." Fang laughed bitterly, "But you make it so gods damned _easy_ to forget that you're the enemy."

Hiccup quickly got over his shock at Fang's admission.

"Well, why should we be enemies?" Hiccup asked earnestly,"Our clans have been fighting for gods know how long, but does anyone even remember why? Is there even a reason anymore? We're each taught to believe that the other is a monster. But that's wrong. Everything we know about each other is wrong. So why are we all doing this?"

"Because this is the way things are," Fang snapped.

"But they don't have to be." Hiccup retorted, trying desperately to get Fang to see things his way.

"And who's going to change the way things are?" Fang demanded derisively, whirling to face Hiccup, "Me? You? What difference could you or I possibly make?" Fang snarled, "Whatever our small talents, we are powerless."

Hiccup tried to interject, but Fang cut him off. He had to finish what he was going to say. Because it was true. Because, as cruel as the gods could be, it was _true_.

"In the eyes of our clans, we are nothing."

* * *

After a good while of extremely uncomfortable silence, Fang ushered Hiccup upstairs, saying that his father would probably be relieved of his night watch duty fairly soon. And if he was going to break the laws of his clan, Fang said, than he was at least going to do it well. Being caught was not an option.

Hiccup was currently sprawled on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling and contemplating something terrible. Why did associating with one of the most interesting people he'd ever met mean betrayal? Hiccup had acted without thinking nearly this entire night, and acted against the express wishes of his own father. His father...he would break apart if he found out what Hiccup had done. The villagers, if they ever knew, would demand his blood. They had no love for him. The truth of this tore at Hiccup's chest, but Hiccup couldn't bring himself to regret his actions. He couldn't.

"Hiccup," Fang said, cutting through his thoughts, voice urgent, "What is that?"

Hiccup sat up and looked where Fang was staring. One of the scales had fallen partway out of his pocket. It gleamed in the dim candle's light. Hiccup grabbed it and held it out to Fang.

"I'm not sure. I found a bunch of them down in the Death Line though. There were even more, but I didn't have enough space..."

Fang snatched the scale and stared at it intently, looking at it every which way. He brought out the one he found, comparing them side to side. They looked very similar, almost identical. The same strange, shimmery shade of blue.

"Oh, you found one too?" Hiccup said.

"This one I found in the stream. I never would have thought to check the Death Line for these..." Fang lost himself in contemplation. "What could this mean...?"

Hiccup got up to study the scales along with Fang, bringing out the others in his pockets in the hopes that they'd off some extra insight. They were all of the same hue, but some, while all relatively large in comparison to normal scales, were of variable size.

"Look at how curved this one is," Hiccup commented, tracing the edge, "I think...I think maybe this creature has limbs. It's probably not a type of fish, so it could be an amphibian or reptilian sort of animal. Eh, strike amphibian. It spends too much time in the Death Line for that..."

"I...didn't know you were so educated," Fang said, astonished. "And to be able to tell so much information from so little..."

"Ah well, y'know, I don't have much potential for physical strength, so I just sort've spent most of my time with books and things. I'd go outside and sketch animals and stuff in spring, and research things from the dusty old books that no one else would bother to read all the other seasons."

"That's impressive." Fang said.

"You really think so?" Hiccup said, surprised, "My father would always shake his head when he saw me with a book instead of a sword..."

Their conversation faded into awkwardness. Both Fang and Hiccup stared at the scales, unsure of where to go from there. There was an inherent sense of rightness when they lost themselves in their conversations. It's like they had known each other for years. But when the talking ceased, they were always reminded of what they were, and why they shouldn't be talking. They were enemies, they should be fighting, killing each other, not conspiring together.

When they first met in the Death Line, Hiccup should have killed Fang. When Hiccup let Fang go, Fang should have killed Hiccup. But they didn't. They chose to walk a different path.

"Hey, Toothless?" Hiccup asked.

The nickname still rankled Fang, but he let it slide at the quaver in Hiccup's voice.

"Yeah?"

"Are we friends?" Hiccup was fidgeting, and refusing to make eye-contact. He almost seemed scared.

Friends? The suggestion surprised him. Fang didn't normally think or care about these things. He was a loner. He avoided people, and they avoided him in turn. Fang didn't make friends, therefore he'd never had any. So Fang had to seriously consider this question. His answer, he could sense, would change things irrevocably. He could turn Hiccup away, turn him out, leave him, reject him. Fang had never needed friendship before. Why would he need friendship now? Why would he agree to be friends with someone like him? Would Fang dare stray so far from his plans? So far from the path he'd vowed to take when he was but a child?

"I suppose we are." Fang replied. He was astounded, scared, exhilarated at his choice.

They were supposed to be enemies, not friends, but they were different, always had been.

They walked a different path.


	11. Chapter 11: Friendship

Yay, another chapter. :) This one, I also struggled a bit with, but not quite so badly. Thank you for your support; it really motivated me in getting this out.  
Enjoy. ^_^

The Death Line by SilverstarsEbonyskies

Ch.11: Friendship

"You should really leave now," Fang said with the smallest hint of amusement, "And actually listen to me this time."

"Do you think it's safe?" Hiccup asked, casting a cautious glance out the chinks in the window slats. He didn't want to wear out his welcome, but the night had grown chill and much less inviting. Also the prospect of facing his father in the morning, regardless of whether he knew he'd sneaked out or not, did not appeal to Hiccup.

"I am almost completely certain that the search group has already given up." Fang answered, "Besides, twilight is upon us. You will want to leave before the sun exposes you."

"I guess so.." Hiccup acquiesced, sighing and getting up onto his feet.

Fang nodded and blew out the candle, which was melted now almost down to the table it rested upon. "I will check on my father, to make sure he's still asleep. Stay here."

Hiccup watched Fang's silhouette slip downstairs and marveled at how odd things had become. Mere days ago, he would have never dreamed he'd be in the Night Fury's house like this. It astounded him, the strange ways life twisted and turned. But Hiccup couldn't help but be grateful for this despite the danger, because for some unfathomable reason Fang was was willing to brave the danger with him. And besides, Hiccup never had a friend like this before.

"It's safe." Fang said when he reappeared, "For now. You should hurry."

They both stood there for a few slow moments before Hiccup spoke up. "Ah, um...how exactly should I leave?"

"The way you came?" Fang suggested as if it were obvious, "That would attract the least attention."

"But, well, you remember that I _fell_ over the wall, right? Loud thump on your roof and stuff? I don't think I could get back over very easily..." Hiccup pointed out, more than a little embarrassed at himself.

"By the gods," Fang muttered, bring a hand up to cover his face,"I swear you are made to cause me headaches."

* * *

Hiccup stared with undisguised dismay at the distance between the wall and the branch. This wasn't going to work. He had all the grace of a mentally retarded sheep. He was going to jump, miss, fall, and probably break his neck.

The thought of falling almost made him look down, but he resisted the impulse with a great force of will. He shook his head and squirmed, trying to find a crouching position on the wall that didn't make some part of him get pins and needles. Ugh, this wasn't working. He twisted his head back to look behind him.

"Uh haha, you know, I don't think this is going to end well." Hiccup whispered back to Fang, who was standing on the roof with his arms crossed, supervising Hiccup's progress.

"It will not end well at all," Fang agreed, "If you do not _move_. If you stay frozen like that, someone is going to see you."

"So, basically, my choices are death or death. Fantastic." Hiccup said. Sarcastic quips always tended to come naturally to him in situations like this.

Fang snorted. "Actually the choices are the possible death of you, or the certain death of the both of us. I am reasonably attached to my life, so for the mercy of the gods, _please_ get out of here before the sun comes up."

"Whoa, is that a sense of humor I hear?" Hiccup teased, trying to get his mind off of the impending jump, "Never thought I'd hear you start joking around."

"What can I say; I can't help but act differently around you," Fang was smirking but his tone was more contemplative than anything else, "And by the gods above, you do _not_ need to be hesitating this long."

"Why don't you do it then, if it's so easy?" Hiccup challenged.

Fang raised an eyebrow. "I'm not the one who needs to be escaping right now."

"What, can the great and mighty "Fang" not do it?" Hiccup taunted good-naturedly, "If _you_ can't do it, than I definitely couldn't."

"...If I do it, will you shut up and go already?" Fang questioned.

"I'll try." Hiccup promised.

"Hmph, fine."

With lightning quick ease, Fang hopped onto the wall and leaped up and onto the branch, leaving a small breeze in his wake. He landed lightly and perfectly, barely even shaking the limb. Hiccup gaped and Fang looked unbelievably smug.

"Now that's not even fair," Hiccup protested, "How on earth did you do that?"

"No more stalling," Fang said, still infuriatingly proud of himself, "Get over here."

Hiccup still appeared unsure.

"Look," Fang said in exasperation, "I'm right here. I'll make sure you don't fall."

"Are you sure?"

"Extremely," Fang said, rolling his eyes, "Go. Now."

Hiccup took in a deep breath, expelled it, and...took a leap of faith.

Hiccup easily cleared the gap, despite his earlier misgivings. Maybe he wasn't quite as inept as he thought he was. He gave a small internal celebration once he felt his feet contact the branch, but then, just as he was about to grab the limb to cement his balance, he slipped off. Hiccup flailed, just barely managing to grasp and hang on the branch with this left hand. In the middle of his panic, he felt arms lifting him up, first by his wrist, and then from under his arms.

Hiccup was shaking slightly with leftover adrenaline after Fang set him down. This was horribly embarrassing. Gods, why did he have to be so hopeless?

"You really aren't very good at this," Fang commented.

"Uh, heh heh, yeah, not really,"Hiccup said, trying not to cling too obviously to the branch, "Thanks for, y'know, saving me. Again."

"I said that I wouldn't let you fall." Fang said, matter-of-fact. "Although I have to wonder how you've stayed alive this long if you're always like this."

"Dumb luck?" Hiccup suggested, grinning.

* * *

"This is as far as I go," Fang decreed, "You cannot convince me to accompany you further."

"Pft, that's what you said last time," Hiccup teased. He looked around, "What is this place anyways?"

"This is where you'll find me, if need be," Fang said, looking at somewhere above Hiccup's left shoulder, steadily refusing to make eye contact, "You shouldn't attempt to sneak into the village again. It's dangerous."

Hiccup grinned, realizing what Fang was really saying, "Yeah."

"Also," Fang continued, "There's an easier way down into the Death Line from here. It's how I got to you so quickly when that murderous brat pushed you over."

Fang watched Hiccup's reaction to his mentioning his fall carefully. Hiccup clearly looked uneasy. "Speaking of which," Fang said, "You need to learn how to defend yourself."

"What?" Hiccup started, "I'm horrible at combat!"

"Personally," Fang rebutted, "I think it's less an issue of your potential and more an issue of their teaching methods."

"Heh, right, I'm sure you could make a fearsome warrior out of me," Hiccup said, unable to keep a straight face.

"I doubt you'd want to be a warrior regardless," Fang said with a smile, "Violence isn't in your nature." Fang's voice darkened, "I do, however, think you should be able to fight well enough to avoid further attempts on your life."

"I...I don't think Snotlout will try something like that again," Hiccup said.

"That doesn't matter," Fang said, filing away Snotlout's name in his mind, "People can be unpredictable; emotions can rule them in frightening ways. Did you know he would push you off the edge? I doubt he's concerned with giving you warnings."

"...I guess..." Hiccup trailed off, troubled.

Fang looked up at the sky, noting with worry that it was beginning to lighten. Sunrise would be upon them soon. "I need to head back, and so do you."

Hiccup nodded, still lost in thought.

"Hiccup," Fang said, nearly too soft to hear, "I hope you do not end up regretting this,"

Hiccup snapped out of his reverie at the use of his name, regarding Fang questioningly.

"I hope," Fang clarified haltingly, "That you will not regret having me as your friend."

Before Hiccup could say anything, Fang whipped through the trees and out of sight and sound. Hiccup chuckled lightly and rubbed the back of his neck. Fang had such a hard time saying what he meant.

"He thinks he's such a tough guy," Hiccup pondered out loud, "But he really isn't. I was right. Toothless suits him."

Hiccup smiled, and began his way back home.

* * *

Hiccup tried his best to sneak back without being spotted, which should have been easy, since no one normally got up this early, but Astrid, apparently, did not feel like being normal that morning. She was up, had been for a while, by the look on her face. She took notice of Hiccup, but didn't bother to say anything to him. She seemed too sunken in her own thoughts to care much that someone else was wandering around the village before the sun was even up.

Hiccup debated whether he should ask her what was wrong. He did, after all, nurse a bit of a crush for her. But he was shy, and had too many reasons why talking to her would be a very bad idea. He walked by her, and up to his house, opening the door slowly, sneaking in, and closing it.

Astrid glanced at the door as it closed, something unreadable in her expression.


	12. Chapter 12: Introspection

Hey, another chapter for your pleasure. :) I noticed that the reviews for the last chapter were much lower than for the others, so I'm going to try to offer an incentive. The author of the 180th review gets a gift-fic from me. A HTTYD oneshot. Anything you want, provided it's not a lemon. It could be genfic, character-centric. Any genre, or any pairing. If you so chose, it could be set in the Death Line universe, or complete separate. I'll do the same for the 200th reviewer as well. :)

The Death Line by SilverstarsEbonyskies

Ch. 12: Introspection

Fang had no problem getting back to his house without being seen. Compared to the rest of the people in his village, he was a master of stealth. His father also was blissfully ignorant of his return, still sunk deep into sleep. It was just so easy; he knew he could do this, be friends with Hiccup without anyone being the wiser, at least if Hiccup obeyed and didn't attempt to visit him at his own house again. Hiccup, Fang surmised, would probably have a harder time of it. He was probably a terribly liar and his clumsiness wouldn't allow him the greatest degree of secrecy when he left the village.

Fang shook his head wildly and collapsed into the chair by his desk. He stared at the melted blob that was all that was left of the candle. He and Hiccup had been talking nearly the whole night, he knew. Fang just couldn't figure out why by the gods he was doing this. This...this scared him, almost. What by the gods was he doing? Why had he agreed? This was insane. Beyond insane. They barely knew each other! They'd only met days ago, and then only as enemies. He was risking —they both were risking —everything. Why had Fang agreed to this? His mind had been so conflicted, but the words, his agreement, had slipped so easily from him. Too easily.

He stared at his fingers as they shook, his mind chasing itself in circles, seeking the ever elusive answer to his question. _Why was he doing this?_ Around and around his thoughts went, and Fang began to have the disquieting sense that the reason he couldn't find the answer wasn't because there wasn't one, but because he didn't really want to find it. But Fang was nothing if not stubborn, even against himself, and he wrestled his tangled thoughts into order, straightened them, and peered deeply into himself because if he was going to do something so foolhardy, so dangerous, than he needed to know, needed to have a reason that was important, a reason that mattered.

The truth struck him then, and he realized exactly how strange and how obvious the answer was. He was doing this because he wanted to. For perhaps the first time in his life, this was something he honestly wanted to do, not for respect or admiration of people who didn't really give a damn about him. This...this was because he...he wanted to be friends with Hiccup.

The trembling in his fingers stopped. There were still so many things left unanswered, problems to overcome, uncertainties that might never go away. That was okay; Fang would learn to live with the unpredictable.

* * *

Besides training, Hiccup didn't have any duties or responsibilities. He'd occasionally help Gobber in the smithy, grinding axes and swords into razor sharpness or assisting in the creation of new weapons, but Gobber had said that he had it under control. Hiccup had the distinct impression that Gobber wanted Hiccup out of the smithy for a reason. Hiccup would have normally been bothered by that, but he had other things on his mind.

No one would miss him, Hiccup was sure. He usually stayed in his room during this time of day, not that anyone would be searching. Hiccup had even been able to sleep in this morning, meaning that his father was preoccupied with something. Something, Hiccup ruminated bitterly, more important than him. Although in this case that wasn't too bad a thing. It had allowed him a decent snatch at sleep despite how late he'd been up.

And that was good, because Hiccup was determined to cross the Death Line again. It had only been some odd hours since he'd seen Toothless, but Hiccup wanted desperately to see his new, and only, friend. He wanted to be awake, alert, and ready to enjoy the novelty of someone actually _wanting_ to be around him. The thought brought a bright, goofy smile to his face.

So he walked out of the village, trying simultaneously to be sneaky and act casually, which worked even less well than it sounded. He almost got out unobserved regardless, but just as he reached the tree line, Astrid surprised him.

"What are you doing?" She asked pointedly, her voice making it clear that she wouldn't like his answer, no matter what he replied.

"Uh, heh heh," Hiccup said, fidgeting under her scrutiny, "I was just bored I guess. I...felt like walking around."

"Whatever," She said, scornfully uninterested. She fell into temporary silence, and Hiccup wondered why she was suddenly so aware of Hiccup's comings and goings. It was beginning to creep him out, even through Hiccup's affection for her. "Hey," She spoke suddenly, "Have you...have you noticed anything weird about Snotlout?"

"Weird?" Hiccup asked, clearing his throat nervously, forcing himself to steer clear of his memories of cruel, hard eyes and the feeling of falling. "Uh, no, not really, why?"

"Oh," She said flatly. She fiddled with the belt at her waist. "It's just...Snotlout hasn't been hitting on me, or trying to impress me by doing stupid things. It's strange."

"Yeah," Hiccup heard himself say, "He has been a bit closed off lately, I think. You might want to pay attention to how he acts in training later today. Maybe ask him if something's up."

"Hm," She said, regarding Hiccup thoughtfully, "I might."

Without any further questions or any goodbyes, she turned away and headed back into the village, walking with that confident sway that Hiccup had always admired. On one hand, Hiccup felt a little disoriented, maybe a little jilted, on the other, Hiccup felt a little thrilled. She'd asked _him. _Why she'd asked him, he couldn't figure out. That was, he convinced himself, the reason he felt uneasy. It wasn't because Astrid had been watching him. That would make him happy, right? She was paying attention to him. That was a good thing. She couldn't possibly guess at the reasons for Hiccup's comings and goings, so it was okay.

But worry still gnawed at him as he continued on to the Death Line, and he had to wonder if he'd rather have Toothless' friendship or Astrid's gaze fixed upon him.

* * *

Fang told himself he was being ridiculous. Hiccup wouldn't possibly want to visit him this soon. And yet here Fang was, at the place he'd told Hiccup to come if he wanted to find him. It wasn't like he was there because he thought Hiccup might look for him. This was Fang's place. It was where he always was, if not at the village. He came here to train, to think, to eat sometimes, to listen to the sound of the water, and feel the fleeting peace that nature offered him. So it wasn't strange that Fang was here, he told himself. What was strange, he had to admit, was that he was worrying obsessively about it.

He could justify part of his worry with the fact that he was doing something seditious, something his clan would punish him severely for. After all, traitors were not treated kindly. Fang, however, was surprised to discover that he was becoming less and less concerned with the possible retribution of his clan. He was still worried about that, to be sure, but it felt less like an impending and inevitable doom than it did a far-off thing, a darkness off in the distance beyond the horizon.

The rest of his worry, the majority, wasn't so easy explained away, and this bothered Fang like nothing else ever had. Fang paced around, heedless to the ruckus his feet made crunching the fallen twigs and debris. He should be doing something constructive. Instead, he was doing this. Why did he care so much that Hiccup might or might not come to see him? It shouldn't —didn't –matter.

He'd never had a friend before. It was...difficult for him to comprehend having one now. Fang tried not to care, but he knew he didn't have the greatest personality in the world. He knew he was difficult to get along with. His own father had no end of troubles with him. What if he didn't make a good impression? What if Hiccup got fed up with him? It was ridiculous, stupid, idiotic to be so worked up over something so infantile, but Fang couldn't help it. He finally realized that he'd been missing something, that he really wanted a friend at last, and he was acutely aware that he could screw this up irreparably, since his social skills were likely in the negatives.

And what if Hiccup changed his mind? What if he'd come to his senses and realized just how risky this was, how much he could lose? What if he never came? The gods knew Fang had just been contemplating these very questions for himself just hours ago. He knew it was only fair that Hiccup consider these things seriously as well.

Soft steps and undisguised breathing interrupted Fang's never-ending cycle of thoughts and he swung back behind him, posture defensive and guarded. A mop of reddish-brown hair and smiling eyes popped up into view, mounting the edge of the the Death Line a couple yards away.

It was Hiccup. He came. Fang let out a breath, releasing the tension. He couldn't, however, keep his palms from sweating, and he understood with no small amount of horror that he was _nervous_. This made him irritated, which only made him more afraid he was going to act badly, which in turn irritated him even further. Fang felt on the verge of disaster.

"Hey," Hiccup spoke, grinning unrestrained, "What's up?"


End file.
